Eternal stairway to heaven?

by Sophia

I’m heavily into music. Pretty much all types. My iPod looks like it’s owned by a schizophrenic. Mozart to Eminem. In fact, as I type this, I’m watching this year’s Rock Hall of Fame Induction via DVR. (BTW, worse editing of a television program…ever.)

But even I have my limits as to how far I’ll take my passion. Apparently not so for this guy.

If you clicked on the link, you’ve gotten the message. If you haven’t, the Cliff Notes are that he has started a business to press ashes (as in the dearly departed) into vinyl. You know…so that you can play over/through your loved one’s DNA.

WTF???!!!

Where do I even begin?

Hi. In the mood for a little music? I’d love to play my dad.

Oh, is your dad a musician?

No. He was a plumber. But I thought it would be a good idea to embed his ashes into a vinyl record. Please ignore the hissing and popping on the second track. That’s dad’s right big toe.

I mean, why don’t we start making jewelry from our beloved deceased so that we can always carry them with us. Or how about some place mats so that we never miss a meal without their presence. Really?!!

We already have the bury or cremate options. Do we really need ash accessories? I don’t think so.

But just in case the executor of my estate goes rogue and decides to music-afy my remains, I’m making my preferences clear right now. Because tramps like us, baby we were born to run (right out of the cemetery and onto track #1).

Yes, that's his real autograph.

Specifically, I’d like my feet embedded into the title track, I’d like my lips inserted into Thunder Road and my ass placed on Backstreets. I also wouldn’t be opposed if people sang She’s The One loudly during the vinyl pressing process.

If all of that is not possible, please just stick me into the ground and send the worms a dinner invitation.

As creepy as that sounds, I think it’s better than having a record needle skip over my nose. Just sayin’.